


Peace (And All That Implies)

by kinky digamma (periferal)



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blood, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Denial, Pain, Smut, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-08-27 05:04:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16695952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periferal/pseuds/kinky%20digamma
Summary: Isaac wants peace.Dracula wants... something, anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

              Dracula rarely went to Isaac’s workspace. Sometimes he would come by for a moment or two to check up on him, which mostly meant dramatically standing around while prodding at the forger’s work with a long, clawed finger, but he rarely went so far from the central structure of the palace. Now that the war against humanity was in full swing, this was especially true.  
  
              This meant he rarely, if ever, witnessed Isaac in the throws of his self-mortification. He was not ashamed of the practice—if he was, he would have done it in his private chambers, not his workshop—but the thought of Dracula seeing him in such a state filled him with confusion.  
  
              Most of the time, Isaac was hyperaware of whenever his Master entered the workshop. Perhaps it was leftover anxieties from his days with his old master, or perhaps it was just the sort of sense one developed as a human in a castle full of vampires, but in either case, it meant that Isaac was difficult to surprise. His practice, however, seemed to diminish that awareness.  
  
              He was made fully aware this when, one day, as he felt the sting of the whip cut into the flesh of his back over and over and over, someone outside of his line of sight grabbed his arm with sudden force.  
  
              “Why do you hurt yourself?”  
  
              Isaac shuddered despite himself. “Master,” he said. “I did not see you there.”  
  
              “Evidently not,” Dracula answered.  
  
              Now that he was aware of him, it was difficult for Isaac to think of anything else.  
  
              It was not difficult to carry on a conversation and hurt himself when speaking with Godbrand, or any of the other vampire generals. But somehow, even as Dracula let go of his arm, Isaac could not bring the lash up.  
  
              “Peace,” Isaac said. “Distraction.”  
  
              “I see,” Dracula said. “Can you stand?”  
  
              Isaac nodded. He stood up, the protestations from his back bringing more tears to his eyes.  
  
              “You mustn’t allow these to become infected, you know,” Dracula continued. “It wouldn’t do for one of my forgers to drop dead.”  
  
              “That will not happen,” Isaac said. “I know how to take care of my—”  
  
              His voice died in his throat as he felt a clawed hand press against the small of his back, just below the worst of the wounds and scarring.  
  
              “For your own good,” Dracula said. “I would prefer to oversee any of your needs in this regard personally.”  
  
              Isaac tensed, which only opened the scabbed over wounds. “I…”  
  
              “Promise me,” Dracula said, his claws digging further into Isaac’s back. “I can’t have you overdoing it, after all.”  
  
              “Of course, Master,” Isaac said.  
  
              He waited until Dracula’s footsteps faded out of earshot to collapse to his knees, moaning faintly. He brought the whip up half way, but he stopped himself. Dracula would know if he disobeyed.  
  
              --  
  
              The knock came about two hours later. Dracula was slumped in his chair in his personal chambers, as he often was, staring into the fire.  
  
              “Come in,” he said.  
  
              The door opened. “You said,” Isaac said, his face taught with anguish, “to come to you.”  
  
              “So soon?” Dracula asked.  
  
              He had to admit that part of what drew him to this human was how different he was than Lisa. Not just because he was a man, but because of his utter conviction that it was best for humanity to be wiped from the face of the world forever.  
  
              “Yes,” Isaac said.  
  
              “Did you bring the lash you were using?” Dracula asked.  
  
              “Yes,” Isaac said. He held it out.  
  
              Dracula stood up slowly. He grabbed the whip.  
  
              “Kneel,” he said.  
  
              Isaac complied wordlessly. The wounds from the last round had barely healed, but Dracula could deal with both those and any fresh ones he inflicted himself quite easily.  
  
              “You are not being punished,” Dracula said as he brought the whip down on Isaac’s back. “This is not out of some misled sense of love, either.” He brought the whip down again. The rhythm of his speech did not match the rhythm of the strokes. “You have a need, and I am feeling generous.”  
  
              “Thank you, Master,” Isaac said, words choked in his throat.  
  
              The wet thwack of spiked leather hitting flesh was sometimes intercut with the sound of Isaac moaning. These noises grew more frequent, then turned into whimpers.  
  
              “Am I hurting you?” Dracula asked. A ridiculous question, but one which still had a purpose.  
  
              “No…” Isaac said. “I…”  
  
              Dracula carefully placed the lash on the ground next to Isaac. He knelt behind him. “Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.  
  
              Isaac shuddered at the cold breath on his neck. “I—”  
  
              Dracula pressed himself against Isaac’s back. There was an advantage to being so much taller and broader, he thought. “You want peace, don’t you?” he asked.  
  
              Godbrand talked easily, especially when he complained. He had been quite willing to share with Dracula what Isaac had told him.  
  
              “Y…yes.” Isaac’s voice was very small.  
  
              “I can give you peace, for a time,” Dracula said.  
  
              “Why me?”  
  
              He was likely thinking of the many attractive vampire women and men in the castle, Dracula thought.  
  
              “You are everything she was not,” Dracula said.  
  
              “Oh,” Isaac said. The word turned into another low whimper.  
  
              Dracula could feel his breathing accelerate. “What will it be, then?” Dracula said.  
  
              “Please, Master,” Isaac said. “Give me peace.”  
  
              “Turn over,” Dracula said. “Let me expose you.”  
  
              --  
  
              The feeling of his Master’s clawed hand on his cock should have made him nervous. One wrong move, and the agony he was in would not be very fun anymore. Instead, it only heightened the fog of confusion and pleasure crowding his mind.  
  
              He was fully hard in a very short while. Some small part of him thought that this could not possibly be all, that Dracula could not possibly be so strangely generous. That part of him was right, he realized, as the feeling of Dracula’s hand on his cock vanished and he realized that he had closed his eyes. The carpeted floor made his back smart.  
  
              “I’m going to fuck your mouth,” Dracula said. “That is my price. Then, I will take you apart until you are shuddering on this floor, unable even to think. That will be your peace.”  
  
              That was all the warning he gave before forcing Isaac’s mouth open with first his fingers and then his cock.  
  
              The feelings of his Master’s cock hitting the back of his throat over and over, and of his head being pushed back into the floor, overwhelmed most thought. Isaac’s awareness narrowed down to the cock in his mouth and the fabric covering his nose. He found it difficult to draw any sort of useful breath.  
  
              Dracula fucked his mouth for a short eternity. Isaac had not felt so used in a very long time. It felt good in a way he did not quite want to explain to himself.  
  
              “Now, then,” Dracula said. “Your peace.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years! Here's some porn.

              Dracula watched his forger for a long moment.

              “Well?” Isaac asked. It came out less brat-like than it would have from anyone else’s mouth.

              “Patience,” Dracula said.

              He looked at his hands. It wouldn’t do to give Isaac that degree of internal bleeding, so any penetration was out, but that didn’t preclude all the myriad other options. He would have to make a note, however, to be more prepared the next time. It was not as though suitable lubricant was hard to find, or even to make, he just did not have any within easy reach.

              There was also the matter that he had not fed in a great long while, but his self-control was such that this would not be too much of an issue.

              As he considered all this, he allowed himself to admire the sight of Isaac spread like this for him, neglected cock stiff against his belly, mouth bruised and reddened.

              “Kneel,” Dracula commanded. Perhaps this was not his most creative solution, but he greatly enjoyed the idea of inextricably linking arousal with the feeling of a whip across Isaac’s shoulders even more so than it obviously was.

              Isaac complied quickly, and Dracula allowed himself a moment to once more admire the sight before him before grasping the lash and bringing it down on his back.

              Isaac whimpered at the contact, rocking forwards with the strike, his former stillness evaporating. “Master, I—”

              Dracula stilled the lash. “Shhh,” he said. “Shh, no speaking.” He smiled. “Stroke yourself in time with the lashes.”

              Isaac moaned. Dracula slowed his rhythm with the lash, and watched as Isaac leaned his head back, the movement of his hand agonizingly slow.

              When Isaac finally spent himself in desperate spurts, Dracula once more put down the lash and kneeled behind him. “Good,” he said, cold mouth on Isaac’s warm neck.

              --

              Before that first encounter with Dracula, while there had been times where the act of lashing himself had brought a certain pleasure with it, that had not always been the case, nor had it always been the purpose for Isaac’s act. Now, the moment he brought the lash down on his skin, he could feel only the memory of Dracula’s cock against the back of his throat and the feeling of coming into his own hand.

              Isaac dropped the lash after only four strokes, feeling a strange combination of arousal and despair curling in his chest.

              “I am glad you did not mean to break your promise too much,” he heard. Isaac nearly jumped. How had Dracula managed to sneak up on him like that again?

              “Master, my apologies, I did not wish to disturb you.” As he once more had his back to Dracula, he hoped the vampire could not see his already growing arousal, but that hope was dashed when he felt that same long-fingered hand wrap around the base of his shaft.

              “I think,” he said, “that your punishment shall be my taking you here, where anyone could wander through.”

              They were once more in Isaac’s workshop; it was not so public as all that, but it would be hard to bar entry completely.

              Isaac shuddered. He expected Dracula to release his grip on Isaac’s cock, to splay him on his back and fuck his mouth, but instead Dracula brought him inexorably to completion with slow, precise strokes that left Isaac feeling like he had just been made to come by some sort of mechanism. For a moment, he found himself hoping that this was all his Master wanted and hoping that the reverse was true.

              “I confess,” Dracula said. “I have not come unprepared.”

              Isaac felt himself pushed forwards to be on his knees and elbows, a cold, slick finger teasing at his quickly-exposed entrance.

              “How many times did you lash yourself?” Dracula asked. “Before you stopped yourself?”

              “Four—ahh!” Isaac had not been entered like this in so long, and so the feeling of one of Dracula’s fingers inside himself caused another violent shudder to wrack his body.

              “Well, then,” Dracula said. “I shall make you spend yourself three more times, as is only just. Perhaps I was hasty to say I would take you. I will take you, but not yet.” He slid in a second finger.

              Isaac was not hard again. It was not possible for him to be hard again, even with the smell of his own blood and semen in his nostrils. Instead, as Dracula brutally fucked him with two, then three fingers, his still-flaccid cock continued to leak.

              “You must know that is not sufficient,” Dracula said, wrapping his other hand once more around the base of Isaac’s shaft.

              Isaac could not help but scream, or at least make a chocked approximation of such a sound. That hurt, especially as Dracula slid his hand up and down Isaac’s shaft, exposing the still overly-sensitive head and leaving it so long enough for it to hurt. He was trapped between Dracula’s hands. How could he come three more times, even like this?

              The answer was, Dracula could force whatever he wanted from Isaac’s body and he knew it. More quickly than he ever thought possible, not only was Isaac hard again, but he was once more spiraling into the abyss, painful sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine as he once more spent himself into his Master’s hand.

              “Two more,” Dracula said pleasantly. He didn’t even sound out of breath. He had not stopped finger-fucking Isaac for a moment. “I will not be so easy on you this third time, either.”

              What could that possible mean? Isaac got a very good idea when Dracula let go of his cock but did not stop or otherwise slow the pace of his fingers. He was to come a third time, this time wholly untouched.

              What sent him teetering over that third edge was the combination of a temporary fourth (!) finger and Dracula’s mouth on his neck. This orgasm felt the most forced of all of them, ripped from Isaac’s body almost against his will. Yet, despite his growing inability to separate pain, pleasure, and painful pleasure, Isaac’s thoughts were the calmest and emptiest they had ever been. Was this, even more than their last encounter, Dracula’s promised peace?

              When Dracula finally entered him, Isaac was too shattered to fully understand the sensations from his body anymore. Presumably, he came a fourth time, but mainly he was aware of Dracula emptying himself inside him and the ever-smarting wounds on his back.

              Isaac came aware to being carried.

              “I’ve quite worn you out, haven’t I?” Dracula asked. “You humans are so fragile.”

              He found himself in his own bed, his master watching him with an unreadable look in his eyes.

              “Thank you,” Isaac whispered. Dracula did not answer, and was gone when Isaac woke.


End file.
